


Give 'Em Hell

by TookMeASecond



Series: Give 'Em Hell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Bondage, Bottom Sam, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, M/M, Rimming, Sex Toys, Top Dean, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TookMeASecond/pseuds/TookMeASecond
Summary: The Boy King meets a newly promoted Captain.  They have never met before, but they feel like they've known each other forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriel/gifts), [Miriel_2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Miriel_2).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 01/09/2017  
> I like to reread my work every now and then and if I find mistakes I correct them. I'm just anal like that ;)

The Boy King sat perched on his throne, a bored look on his face, as he listened to the herald relay news from the racks. In this weekly meeting he was informed of any souls who opted to get off the racks, all promotions from said souls to all ranks. One name caught his attention.

“Stop,” the King said holding out his hand and sitting up straighter. The herald paused his reading and looked up through his lashes, hoping the interruption wasn’t because he’d made a mistake. “Read that last one again. Why do I recognize the name?” The herald’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, Sir! Dean Winchester, he’s moving up through the ranks faster than any soul we’ve had down here. He was off the racks in only 40 years, his transformation to demon in another 10. This is his third promotion in 50 years, Your Highness.”

“And what is his rank again?”

“Captain, Sir. The General has requested a ceremony for his promotion. It will be tomorrow night. Do you wish to attend?” The herald would then be in charge of making sure the King’s council was aware and his table reserved right up front.

“I wish to see him. Is he working now?” The herald flipped through numerous papers in his book and dragged his finger down a page.

“Yes, Sire. He is in the middle of his shift. They’ve moved him into a teaching chamber. There is a gallery above to show new recruits technique. Shall I have it cleared?” The King grinned as he stood and buttoned the white suit jacket in front of him.

“Not necessary. I like to watch them squirm.” And he did. Sam had gained a reputation since taking over hell. He was ruthless and had a blood lust that rivaled Lucifer, deep down he knew it was because Lucifer had trained him. He had taken the throne so long ago he didn’t remember how he got here. Most of his memories were just feelings these days.

The harold bowed his head and turned to lead the King to the torture chambers. The screams that erupted through the doors down the long hall sent goosebumps over his flesh. He closed his eyes and inhaled slow and deep, relishing the anguish in those cries. The doors on the left were the small rooms with basic racks where newly converted souls learned the art of torture. The doors on the right were farther apart. They were for observing experienced and well trained officers, teaching tools for the new carvers.

The Boy King was lead through a door halfway down the hall. Once inside there was a second door to the left, leading into the chamber, and a staircase in front, leading up to the observation deck. Sam stole a glance through the small window in the door, but only saw the soul strapped spread eagle to a table. He grinned. He loved observing, but didn’t have much time for it lately. Which struck him as strange considering how bored he was these days. He felt as if there was something missing, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He was lead up the stairs and to the left where there were two rows of chairs. Half of them occupied by demons of various rank. New torturers were not allowed on the deck, only demons, officers and higher ranking carvers. There was a one way glass mirror looking over the chamber so as not to distract the torturer or the tortured. No one looked up as he entered, until the harold cleared his throat. The General was the first to look over.

“Your Majesty!” he belted out hitting a knee in a bow. Everyone else turned and hit the floor in the same manner. Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Suck ups’. Sam nodded and told them to get up. A couple of the lower ranking carvers made a quick escape with their eyes down. Sam resisted the urge to jump at them as they passed.

“Alastair, how are you?” Sam asked taking a seat in the front row. He didn’t bother looking at the demon General as he scanned the room below searching out the new Captain, and so he missed the flinch at the withholding of rank.

“Well, my King. Just observing my star pupil. He is coming along quite nicely. I have never made such short work of anyone before.” Alastair smiled contently with himself as he took the seat next to Sam, not noticing the disgusted look the King gave him.

“Yes, well. Don’t pat your back too hard there, General. You have to have good material to make a good Knight. How long do you think it’ll take until he’s ready? I am in need of a Knight of Hell to lead the rest. None of them have the gusto.” The General’s smile faltered slightly, taking in the King's disapproving tone.

“I, uh…”

“Don’t stutter. You sound moronic.” Sam still hadn’t looked at him. “Where is this Captain? Do your charges usually take such breaks?” he asked not waiting for the General's answer to the first question.

“Captain Winchester enjoys making his souls sweat. He uses anticipation as part of his torture,” the General said proudly, “With the way he’s moving up he should be ready for Knighthood in another 50 years.” Sam shook his head and sat back in his seat. He watched the soul squirm on the steel table. He was only bound by his wrists and ankles, giving him plenty of wiggle room. Sam smirked, just enough hope to make breaking him that much sweeter. Perhaps Dean was exactly what he was looking for.

Finally the Captain emerged from under the observation deck where the table of tools was kept. “Good, show time. Hit the intercom, I want to hear this.” The General scrambled to get up and press the button for the one way speaker. Dean’s voice flooded the deck.

“You’re going to want to be very still for this. If I miss I’ll cut your artery. Then, just because you pissed me off, I’ll let you bleed out. I'll fix you up and start all over again.” He moved up to the man’s left side as he spoke, a small scalpel in his hand. He grabbed the man’s bicep in his left hand as he drew the knife against his skin with the right. Slow, shallow cuts brought bright red blood over the pale skin of the man’s arm. A straight line just above his armpit into the soft sensitive flesh. The man screamed as Dean slowly peeled off the skin that the barbed wire was tattooed on around his bicep, leaving a 1 inch bloody stripe of missing skin circling his arm.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you these are stupid? Barbed wire? Really? It’s like a bad biker movie,” Dean said tossing the tattooed strip of flesh into a pan at the foot of the table. Sam smirked. Dean looked up at the mirror on his side of the window. It was angled down so he could see the soul spread out, his own reflection standing over the bloodied man. Sam’s breath caught in his throat when his eyes connected with the green of the new Captain. Something stirred deep in his gut. Dean stood staring into his eyes, as if he could see right through the mirror.

The Boy King stood abruptly, startling the lesser demons and causing General Alastair to rise as well. Sam made his way back to the stairs, the harold hot on his heels. “General, Captain Winchester is done for the day after this rack. I would like to speak with him.” Sam was already descending the stairs before the General could respond.

“Yes, sir. I’ll escort him to your throne room myself,” he called down the stairs after his King. Sam paused and looked up at him, his lip slightly curled in disgust.

“No, don’t bother. Herald, stay here. Bring him to my chambers when he’s finished. Tell him not to bother cleaning up. The General will take care of his station today.” The herald bowed his head in compliance. The General shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Sniveling coward.

~*~

Upon entering his chambers the King shuffled out of his suit jacket, unbuttoned the white shirt sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. The room was large with a 4 poster California King bed against the middle of the far wall. A whimper came from the wooden chest at the foot of the bed as Sam passed.

“Shut up, Ruby,” he hissed kicking the box. There was shuffling inside, then no more noise. Sam grunted his approval. “Maybe you’ll come out to play later.” He smirked at the thought as he walked to the large french doors on the right wall of the room. He opened both which lead out to a balcony that overlooked his kingdom. It was like an underground city. One story buildings separated by walkways and staircases. Dull yellow and red lights illuminating them almost making them look like veins, the city alive with demons going about their work.

He sighed turning back to his room. On the far wall, left of the bed and door, there was his bathroom and closet. Next to the bedside table was the door to his playroom. He wondered for a second if he should change. The thought caught him off guard. He was the King. What did it matter what he wore? Dean could show up to him naked and not bat an eye. Sam did whatever he wanted. And he wondered why, even with so much freedom, he felt so trapped. It irritated him how bored he was with his influence over hell. He was almost as powerful as Lucifer, that caged dick. And yet he still wanted more.

Sam must have been lost in thought longer than he anticipated because he was brought back to hell with a rap on the door. He looked once more at the closet and decided against changing. His white suit was ever present anyway. Sam strode to the door and schooled his face and posture, opening up to find a hand servant with their head bowed.

“Yes?” he asked, a note of impatience in his voice. The visible shudder of his underling made him smile, slightly puffing his chest.

“Captain Winchester is done, Sir. Your harold asked that I inform you he is on his way,” the servant said without looking up, his eyes on Sam’s white shoes. Sam nodded, even though he couldn’t see him.

“Very well,” the Boy King stated and closed the door without another word. A feeling he hadn’t had in a very long time pooled in his gut. What was that? Fluttering? Tingles? The anticipation made him anxious, a feeling he didn’t particularly like. But this time the suffering that came with it was exquisite. He turned to look toward his bed, more specifically the chest at the foot of it. Maybe he would offer her to Dean. A gift for the night. A congratulations for his promotion. Sam smirked at the idea.

Another knock on his door had him turning back just as it opened. The harold bowed low and stepped aside. “Captain Dean Winchester, Your Highness. As requested.” Dean stepped over the threshold of Sam’s room and the Boy King couldn’t stop the grin that fought it’s way to his lips. Dean looked a bit nervous, splatters of blood over his jeans. His shirt was fairly clean, but Sam suspected that was because he had taken it off when his technique got particularly messy.

“Thank you, harold. You may take leave.” Sam never looked at the man, never took his eyes off the Captain. The harold nodded his bowed head and backed out of the room, closing the door and leaving the men alone. Dean hit his knee and bowed his head.

“Your Highness, it’s an honor to be in your presence.” Sam smiled and stepped forward, placing a hand on the young man’s head, then taking a step back once more.

“Rise, Captain,” he said watching the muscles move slightly under the man’s clothing. Dean stood and looked Sam in the eyes for the first time. Both stood captivated, neither wanting to look away. Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying the Captain’s features. He watched as Dean’s tense stance slowly started to relax. “Don’t be afraid, Captain Winchester. I’d like to sit and have a talk, if that’s alright with you?”

“Of course, Sir. Anything you wish. And I don’t think I am.”

“Am what, Captain?” Sam asked gesturing to the balcony. Dean nodded and walked out, standing with his hands on the railing.

“I don’t think I’m afraid of you, Sir. I feel like I should be, but I’m not.” Dean looked down over the kingdom, hoping his admission wasn’t going to get him in trouble. The Boy King had told him not to be afraid, and something in the man’s eyes relaxed him. Until of course he felt the King walk up behind him, almost close enough to touch, definitely close enough to feel the heat of his body. Dean closed his eyes and moved his head to the side to open them and look over his shoulder to peek out of the corner of his eye.

“Please, Captain,” Sam whispered against his ear, sending shivers down Dean’s spine, “Call me Sam.” The warm breath against Dean’s ear and neck caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. He had been in hell for a very long time, moved up through the ranks from the racks to Captain, never met this man in his life. Yet there was something familiar about him. Something that screamed at him that they fit together.

Dean swallowed thickly, his hands gripping the white marble railing a little tighter. “Well, then, Sam. Call me Dean.” Sam hummed approvingly in his ear, loving the way Dean’s shoulders tensed.

“I heard all about your accomplishments today, Dean. You have made quite a lot of progress in a short amount of time. Like you were made for this. Like it’s part of you. I’m rather impressed.” Dean's tongue poked out to wet his lips, causing Sam to bite his bottom lip.

“Thank you, Si- Sam. Half the time I don't even think about it, it just happens.” Sam made another pleased sound and backed away. Dean cut off the groan at the loss before it escaped his throat.

“Care for a drink? Fully stocked bar,” Sam said walking back inside. Dean immediately turned to follow. Sam led him to the wet bar in the corner of the room between the bed and the French doors. “Have a seat,” he said gesturing to a couple of arm chairs behind a small coffee table. Dean sat in the chair closest to the balcony leaving the one by the bar for Sam. “What's your poison?”

“Uh, whiskey, please. On the rocks.” Dean sat back in the chair resting his arms on the sides, he accepted the glass Sam handed him and took a long pull.

“Your work has inspired many recruits. And a few higher ups. Do you have plans to design devices? It seems like the logical next step.” Sam took the seat next to Dean, sipped his own whiskey and set it on the table. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, the closest one bumping Dean's own leg. Dean's eyes widened a bit.

“Yeah, I've actually got some ideas already. Most are just improvements of things we already have access to, but there's a couple original sketches.” He was feeling slightly more relaxed around his King.

“Both are great, but I'd love to see the originals sometime.” Dean translated this statement into Sam wanted to see him again. Dean had a knack for reading people. He didn't know if it was a skill he learned or something he'd always had. He just couldn't remember. Dean set his own drink down and leaned forward as well, his hand on his thigh brushing Sam's leg. He didn't miss the heat that flared in his eyes. The Captain was used to going after what he wanted and not much more of that would have him taking it.

“What about you, Sam? How's work? Ever get tired of telling everyone else what to do?” Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as an amused smile ghosted his lips.

“Sometimes.” His expression gave away way more than his one word answer. Dean caught his bottom lip in his teeth and clasped his hands together between his knees. He watched a breath hitch in Sam's chest. Fuck, yeah.

“I, uh, excuse me for a moment,” Sam all but stammered. He rose from the chair and crossed the room to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked.

Sam relieved himself and washed his hands. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and blew out a heavy breath. He could be it, he could be the one. Sam had had plenty of partners, some top some bottom. None were invited back. Just didn't do it for him. But there was something about this Winchester. He straightened from the counter and inhaled deeply, turning to leave.

“So, Dean-” he stopped short seeing the empty chairs. Sam drew his eyebrows together. Maybe he went outside? He was about to call out when a forearm was pressed to his throat from behind. He was pulled back against a firm chest, his knees were bent slightly as he was pulled against the shorter man.

“I see you, Boy King. I'm pretty good at seeing those clues so many can't. I know what you need. And I'm going to give it to you.” Sam shivered at the hot breath on his ear, the growl in the voice. Dean huffed a laugh. “So easy. Strip, on your knees on the bed.” Dean squeezed his arm slightly before letting go. Sam stumbled forward and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before just ripping it off. He had more. He kicked off his shoes and shucked his pants before climbing on the bed and dropping to his elbows, placing his forehead against the comforter.

Dean stripped his own shirt to give his newest charge a look at the blood splattered across his chest, a warning against bad behavior. He slowly stalked toward Sam watching as he peeked over his forearm, taking in the sight. Dean broke into a feral smile when he groaned and buried his face again. At the sound of Dean's belt buckle Sam's knees spread a little wider.

“Good, boy,” Dean said sliding his hand over the tanned curve of that ass. He drew back and whipped the belt down on one cheek, Sam threw his head back and howled. Dean's mouth watered at the red stripe that bloomed on the tender flesh. He slowly rubbed over the welt, Sam writhed. “Tell me, Boy King, do your loyal subject know what a slut you are?” The belt came down on the other cheek. “I asked you a fucking question!”

“No, Sir!” Sam already sounded wrecked. Dean felt his half hard cock twitch. He rubbed a hand over the second welt, relishing in Sam's moan.

“Maybe I'll show them. Maybe I'll bend you over the balcony railing and whip you. Make you beg me to take you, to let you come.” Sam growled low, shifting on his knees. Dean brought the belt down across both cheeks, a perfect H formed on his ass. “I'll do what I want with you.” Sam reached up and grasped at the comforter, his arms spread wide. “You like being spread out? Where's the rope?”

“Bedside table, bottom drawer.” Dean dropped the belt over Sam's calves, a reminder to stay where he was. He walked slowly over to the table and opened the top drawer. Dildos, lube, fan-fucking-tastic. He grabbed a dildo and the lube, tossing it right next to Sam's head. The King looked at them and moaned again, canting his hips in the air. Dean palmed his erection and closed the bottom drawer.

The ropes weren't really rope, they were long strips of silk. There was a slipknot at one end and a carabiner at the other. He looked around at the bed and noticed thick metal rings fastened to each post just below the top of the mattress. “You kinky bastard,” he mumbled as he slipped one wrist into the knot. He tightened the noose and stretched Sam's arm to clip it to the bed. He repeated each action until Sam was spread eagle on his stomach. The lengths of silk were just long enough that there was little give.

“Damn, baby. You look so pretty all stretched out for me,” Dean said unzipping his jeans to relieve some of the pressure.

“Are you going to do something about it, or stand there all night?” Sam asked cockily, looking at him over his bicep.

“Bossy little Boy King aren't you?” Usually if anyone called Sam that during sex when he bottomed it was a deal breaker, but for some reason the title on Dean's tongue only made him want more.

“Please, Sir.” Sam pressed his forehead into the mattress and tried to shift his hips, putting his ass in the air. Dean licked his lips and picked his belt back up. He struck Sam over the backs of his thighs, watching as he pulled on the silk holding his arms. He struck over the top of his ass, just below the waist line. He began slowly, methodically painting his Kings ass and thighs with red welts, just enough pressure it never broke the skin. Until Sam was writhing, begging for more. Only then did he toss the belt next to Sam's head and pick up the dildo.

Upon further inspection he realized the one he grabbed had a control panel on the bottom. It vibrated. He grabbed the lube and settled on his stomach and elbows between Sam's legs. He ran his hands from the backs of Sam's knees up over the welts and scratched back down. Sam's knees drew out and he inhaled on a hiss. “Fuck, Dean!” Normally Dean would have corrected such a breach, but he rather liked the sound of his name on Sam's lips. Especially sounding so undone.

“Mmm, don't ever call me anything else,” he mumbled as he pushed Sam's cheeks apart with his hands. He then started licking from his upper thigh toward his puckered center, not quite reaching his rim. The Kings already labored breathing started coming out in gasps, some rather high pitched. Dean laid a kiss right over the pucker and Sam clenched. Dean's hand was right there to smack a correction against a cheek. “No!”

“Sorry, I'm sorry! Please, don't stop!” Dean licked his lips as Sam arched his back as far as it would go, spreading his cheeks for Dean. The Captain hummed his approval and leaned forward licking the flat of his tongue over Sam's asshole. Once, twice, over and over. Getting it nice and spit-slick. Sam was trying to remain still, jerking involuntary every now and then.

“Taste so fucking good. I could do this all day.”

“Please! Dean!”

“Oh, you'll get more, Boy King.” With that promise barely leaving his tongue he shoved it up Sam's ass as far as he could. Thrusting and licking everywhere. Sam howled out one long call, shoving back as far as he could on Dean's face, pulling on his ankle restraints. While Sam was distracted on Dean's face he used his hands to lube up the vibrator. He shoved Sam's ass up, using the ankle ties as leverage, and started to wedge the tip of the plastic in alongside his tongue. With no more prep than his own tongue the sting was there, but he knew his King could take it.

“Fuck, shit! Oh, Chuck, Dean!” Dean pulled his head back, smirking at Sam. He kept up the slow intrusion of the dildo.

“Chuck?” Dean's tone was amused.

“I don't fucking know, it just came out. Don't fucking stop, please!”

“Oh, baby, I don't plan to.” Dean rose to his knees, shoved Sam's ass up again and started moving the tip of the vibrator in and out, sinking deeper on each in push. It took a little work and Dean was sure Sam was going to be sore the next day, but he managed to work the whole thing inside. He experimented with angles until he found Sam's prostate, then hit that a few times. “Don't you come until I say.” Sam groaned. Then Dean turned it on. Sam screamed into the comforter. He rocked his hips, searching for friction for his throbbing cock.

Dean shifted and got off the bed then slowly rolled the jeans off his hips and down his legs, looking over his handy work. Sam looked beautiful. He kicked the denim aside and moved to the head of the bed. Sam's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched. Dean licked his lips as he stroked himself a few times. Then he climbed on the bed in front of Sam. The King's eyes flew open and he looked up at Dean, totally debauched. “Your other hole is busy.” He sat on his knees and shifted closer until Sam could suck his dick into his mouth. And he took it so greedily.

The Captain gripped Sam's hair and started a slow thrust into his mouth, muffling Sam's groans. “Make me come, then you can come when you're ready.” Sam tilted his head to the side, giving Dean more room. “Oh, yeah. Such a good little cockslut for me. You like that, Boy King? Taking it from both ends? Yeah, you do.” Sam did his best to nod even as he relaxed his throat and allowed Dean to use his mouth. Dean reached up and turned the vibrator on higher and shoved it hard against Sam's prostate.

Sam screamed around Dean's cock, the vibrations in his throat sending the Captain over the edge. “Oh, fuck yeah! Take it all, don't spill any.” Dean thrust a few more times and watched Sam’s hips buck frantically against the bed. The moan as Sam came gave Dean a couple aftershock spurts. And even while rocked by his own orgasm he managed to swallow that, too.

Dean released his captive from the silks and retrieved their whiskeys from the coffee table. Sam was sitting up against the headboard, his head tilted back, his breathing labored. He gladly took the drink and they both downed them. “Holy fuck, dude.” Sam's voice was raspy.

“Fuckin’ right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need help with some graphic design, PM me if you're interested. (I can't do shit)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The torture may seem a bit off. I'm not good at torture. But I'm kinda good at smut ;) Forgive me?
> 
> UNDATED  
> 01/09/2017

The kingdom was a bustle of activity. With the news that the Boy King would be attending the promotion ceremony there was much more interest. All of the higher ranking officers opted to be present. The staff was abuzz with preparations and there was talk of a demonstration.

“Harold, I would like for Captain Winchester to join me at my table tonight,” Sam said as they walked the halls of the palace. The Harold trailed behind his master jotting notes and delegating jobs. He flipped through pages on his clipboard.

“Yes, Sire. Your table seems to be full, would you like me to move someone to another?” Sam fought the urge to shoot him a glare.

“Of course, who's on the list?”

“Well, there's Major Crowley, he's the one who will be presenting. There's General Alastair-” The Harold was cut off by the flick of Sam's wrist over his shoulder.

“Yes, him! I don't wish to look at him all night.” The Harold smiled. General Alastair had many adoring fans. He was not one of them, and it pleased him that his King shared the sentiment.

“Right away. May I take leave to handle it myself?” This time Sam smiled slyly.

“Seems you don't care much for him either. Very well. Come find me as soon as you're done.” The Harold bowed his head and took off back down the hall the way he'd come, leaving Sam alone. He looked around and sighed when he saw there was no one else in the hall. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet. Flashes of last night had his lips curling up. Dean would be the first he invited back to his bed.

Then there was a hand on his elbow and he was pulled backward off balance. Before he could hit the floor he was hauled up, his back slammed to a wall, then they were enveloped in darkness as the door shut. He was in a closet? The King reached up to combat his assailant until a forearm settled across his throat and he stilled. “I’ve been thinking about you all morning.” The gruff voice seemed to fit in the darkness and it made Sam’s pulse start to quicken. “I never got to kiss you last night.” Dean grinned at the shudder that rolled through the man he had pinned to the wall.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Then lips crashed in on his, teeth clicking together, tongues battling for purchase. The forearm on his throat tightened and if he could see he knew his vision would be getting foggy around the edges. He gasped into Dean’s mouth as his pulse slowed from lack of oxygen. Just before he was about to start struggling Dean moved his arm and grasped Sam’s face in his hands. He angled his head to deepen the kiss even as Sam gasped for air against his lips.

The new Captain finally pulled back and Sam slumped against the wall behind him, resting his head back and breathing long and deep. “Holy shit,” Sam said into the nothingness.

“You say that a lot.” He could hear the amusement in Dean’s tone.

“What are you just hiding around in closets waiting for me to walk by alone? The odds of that are slim.”

“Naw, saw you coming. I was going to grab you whether you were alone or not. I’m pretty sure I can take your harold.”

“I don’t know, he’s a feisty one.” They both laughed lightly and Dean leaned up on his tiptoes to press another, gentler kiss to Sam’s lips. “We have lots of work to do. Let’s finish this later.”

“You ready for round two already? I must not have done my job last night.” More amusement. But there was a threatening undertone of promise that sent a zing up Sam’s spine.

“I think you did just fine, but practice makes perfect.” One more chaste kiss and they left the closet without another word.

~*~

The hall was filling quickly. Demons and carvers of all ranks were in attendance. Sam had no idea who here even knew Dean or if they were here for the Boy King. He supposed it didn’t matter. His eyes scanned the groups, searching for the man of the hour. He was only half heartedly listening to Major Crowley drabble on about something, he wasn’t even sure anymore. As the thought occurred to him that he might seem a bit desperate in his mannerisms he smirked at himself. Then his face straightened as Dean walked into the room.

He was stunning. His suit all black, every hair perfectly in place. He watched Dean scan the room in a similar manner and smiled when their eyes met. He was offered a smile in return and a nod of his head before making his way to the table. As he walked up the Boy King rose and offered his hand in greeting. The rest of the table followed suit minus the hand shake.

“Captain Winchester, it’s nice to see you again. Congratulations on the official promotion ceremony.” Dean thanked him and nodded at the others at the table before taking his seat.

“Yes, it’s quite an honor. The attendance tonight is a bit overwhelming.” Sam nodded.

“I’m afraid that is my fault. Events I can make it to usually have a spike in numbers. Not that I even have a chance to speak with half of them. People seem to think their status is higher just being in the same room as me.” Dean bit back a comical retort that would probably be conceived as flirting. He didn’t want to put Sam in a position that would make him uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what it was they had between them quite yet.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. A server brought drinks around for everyone shortly after Dean sat down. They chatted for a bit before Major Crowley demanded the attention of the room. There was a short speech on the accomplishments of Captain Winchester and Dean stood and waved to the room, nodding his head and thanking the applause.

“Captain Winchester, why don’t you bring your device sketches by my chambers tonight? We can go over them and you can explain to me how everything works. Maybe we’ll even start some of the improvements you’d mentioned.” This caught the attention of the Major at the table and the General who was lurking near by.

“You have plans, boy? Do tell,” Alastair cajoled interjecting himself on the party. Dean smiled a bit shyly, which amused the King, and looked down at the table in front of him.

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to reveal any secrets,” Sam said placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. The weight and heat of it was comfortable.

“No, it’s alright. It wasn’t really a secret so much as something I just haven’t told anyone. And I’m sorry, General, but I’d like to show my King first. If you don’t mind.” Alastair nodded and his attention went to the Boy King.

“Sire, I have something important to discuss, may we speak privately?” Sam raised his brows and his eyes wandered the room.

“We’re in the middle of something, General. Can’t this wait?” Alastair seemed to fidget in place for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I-” This time the King cut him off by holding up a hand and offering a gentle, sarcastic, smile.

“I’m sorry, General. You misheard me. My tone may have sounded like a question, but I was asking you nicely to go away.” The other’s at the table averted their eyes. Alastair bowed his head, his ears turning red, and ducked away to hunt down the King’s herald. Dean turned back to start up another conversation with Sam but his attentions were on the door to the hall. Dean followed his gaze and found Meg walking toward them briskly.

“My King,” she said bowing her head in greeting. Sam nodded to her. She leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. Sam’s eyebrows pinched together and a frown marred his face. He nodded to Meg and she left promptly.

“Sire?” Dean asked low enough the other people sitting at his table didn’t hear. Though they were trying not to look interested in affairs they weren’t privy to he could tell they were listening.

“Gentlemen, I am afraid I have business to attend to,” Sam addressed the members of his table. Then he turned to Dean. “Captain, this is something I could use your aid in. If you don’t mind retiring from your own party.” Dean nodded and glanced around the table.

“Of course, Sir. Anything you need.” Sam stood, the other men raised from their chairs and gave their farewells. Dean followed Sam from the room curious as to the news Meg brought him. Dean fell in step to Sam’s right, a couple paces behind. They walked silently through the palace down to the torture chambers. Dean barely resisting the urge to ask what this was about. He figured Sam would tell him when he was ready. Sam led him down the corridor of torture chambers and came to a stop outside the last room on the right.

“We seem to have a problem. One that I think you’d be happy to take care of for me. Meg is… a messenger of sorts. She comes to me with news anytime someone is caught conspiring against me. She brought such news tonight.” Sam explained watching the hallway to make sure no one came within hearing range.

“A conspirer? Who are they talking to?”

“Hunters.” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“Who in their right mind would conspire with hunters? It is very well known what happens to anyone who speaks with them.”

“Someone who isn’t happy about my ruling. He made a grave mistake being careless enough to be caught,” Sam said opening the door to the chamber and leading Dean inside.

“I assume she gave you a name if we are to be taking care of it. May I ask who?” Dean absentmindedly ran his fingers over some tools on the table under the observation deck. He loved the feel of the cold metal before it warmed in his hand and under the blood of his victims.

“Yes, this is why I asked you here. I need someone I can trust. I need to interrogate the traitor before he is dispatched. And you are the best. Also, I need to be sure whatever information he spills will not leave this chamber. Again, I trust you.” Sam met his eyes and they stared for a moment. A grin broke across Dean’s face and he took a step toward his King.

“I think you like me, Sam.” Sam huffed a laugh and smirked then. Shaking his head as he tipped it back to look down at Dean.

“What would give you such ideas?” Dean grinned wider and grabbed Sam’s hips to pull him close, folding his fingers together at the small of his back. He leaned up and kissed Sam’s chin.

“For our first date you ask me to torture someone who threatens your throne during your interrogation. I think you might be the man of my dreams.” Sam laughed again and brought his hands up to cup Dean’s face, moving his down to meet the other man’s lips. They kiss and caress for a moment before there is a knock at the door.

“Follow my lead, Casanova.” Sam walked to the door of the chamber and opened it enough to stick his head out and look up and down the hall. Then he told the visiter to enter. General Alastair moved past the King and was a little taken back to see Dean standing next to the table of tools.

“Sir? Your harold said I could meet you here. I have grave news. Would you like some privacy?” Alastair wasn’t sure if he should speak in front of Dean.

“No need, Alastair. Dean is a trusted friend.” Once again the demon looked taken aback by the lack of formality with his title.

“Alright, Sire. I hate to have to inform you of a trusted member of your council consorting with hunters. I saw her with my own two eyes.” Sam narrowed his eyes at the General and moved to the middle of the room. Alastair moved to keep himself facing Sam, the Boy King effectively putting Dean at his back.

“Do you have proof? Another witness perhaps?” Sam asked calmly, sliding his hands into his pockets. Alastair looked a bit ruffled by the questions.

“Proof? Do I need to give you more than my word, King? I am an important man with a sterling reputation. I have worked my ass off to get to where I am today. There are time’s where I am not so sure you appreciate my value, Sir.” Goosebumps rose on his arms at the smile that slowly split Sam’s face.

“General Alastair. You are an important member of my militia, this is true. But you have hardly worked your ass off for it. You do as little work as necessary to move up the ladder, preferring to ride other’s coattails. You are a suck up, and a coward. Meg already conferred with me on the matter of your betrayal.” Alastair’s face went red. He raised his hands and moved to take a step toward his King but was stopped by two strong arms crushing him in a bearhug. Dean used his weight to lean back and lift the man, slamming him face down on the torture table.

Sam helped the Captain restrain the General until the wrist and ankle cuffs were in place. Then both men took a step back.

“You can’t do this to me! There are laws, there must be a hearing! I get to defend my position to my peers! As soon as I’m out of here I will have your throne for this!” Alastair thrashed against the bindings on his wrists and ankles. Dean stepped up and punched the former General in the kidney as hard as he could. Alastair arched his back and cried out.

“You dare threaten my King?” Dean asked low and menacing, he was falling into the persona that had earned him the title of Captain. The only time Sam had seen him work he’d walked in in the middle of it. He’d never seen him change from Dean Winchester to master carver. The sight was arousing to say in the least. He must have had it written all over his face because when Dean’s dark eyes met his over the table they shifted again. They still held the dangerous calm of torturer but now, alongside, was arousal he was sure mirrored his own. Then Sam laughed caressing Alastair’s shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool, General,” Sam said using the title now as a mockery, “You will not be leaving this room alive. I just have a few questions. Dean is going to help me get answers. And then he’ll do what he wants with you.” The Boy King finished speaking while looking into Dean’s eyes. A sparkle of excitement in them. Dean made his way over to the tool table and fingered some of the metal carefully, selecting his utensils. Sam remained next to Alastair watching his new lover intently. Dean shuffled out of his suit jacket and undid the buttons at his wrists, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. He reached up and loosened his tie, but before he could pull it off he was stopped by Sam’s voice.

“Leave it.”

“Sir?” Dean asked turning his head to look at his King over his shoulder.

“Dean, consider our situation a private one. You may address me as Sam. Leave the tie.” Dean quirked the corner of his mouth up in a devilish smirk.

“As you wish, Sam.”

“What the fuck? Oh, this is rich. How long have you been the Boy King’s bitch, Dean?” This time it was Sam’s hand that came down on the prisoner. He grabbed a fist full of Alastair’s hair and slammed his face into the table, breaking his nose.

“You watch your mouth, demon. Address the Captain properly.” Dean hummed as he returned to the other side of Alastair.

“You’re so sexy when you boss people around,” he said running a hand over Alastair’s suit jacket. He then brought the scissors to the back of the collar and cut down the sleeve to the cuff. Repeating the action on the other side. Then he stripped the jacket off, doing the same with his shirt. Then Dean looked back up at Sam for the next order. Sam leaned in and brushed their lips together.

“Alastair, what were you doing at the hunters place?” Sam’s voice was deep and strong, commanding attention. It sent a chill down Dean’s spine as he leaned back and selected a scalpel from the small lineup in front of him. Alastair huffed out a laugh.

“I already told you, Meg was the one who betrayed you. I followed her there. She was the one conferring with the hunter scum!” Dean brought the blade to the nape of his neck and cut a deep gash slowly down Alastair’s spine, exposing the bone. The demon screamed the entire time, thrashing his arms and legs in an attempt to pull free.

“Meg is my most trusted messenger. Why would she be meeting with hunters in her spare time? Why would she come inform me that you were doing it, if it were her?” Sam asked circling around the head of the table. He walked behind Dean and caressed the small of his back. “Don’t stop,” he whispered in his ear. Dean leaned slightly into the touch and hummed in the back of his throat, bringing the knife to Alastair’s skin again.

“She saw me- Ah! She came out of the fucking house and saw me watching her! Fuck!” Alastair screamed each time Dean made a new slice, two horizontal cuts, one across his shoulders the other across the small of his back.

“You are making this more difficult for yourself. I could always go ask the hunters what you want with them. Then I can kill them. Eliminate all of my problems.” Alastair screamed a new when Dean started to peel the skin off his back. Two flaps that would expose the muscles underneath. Sam leaned in to watch over Dean’s shoulder as he peeled up the skin, slow and careful. He turned his head slightly, not taking his eyes off Dean’s hands and pressed a kiss to the side of the Captain’s neck. “So pretty like this. I love watching you work.” As if he needed any more proof Sam shifted forward to rub his semi hard cock against Dean’s hip. The Captain smiled and moved to peel the skin off the other side of the subjects back, two flaps hanging down his sides.

Alastair was breathing hard now, sweat beading on his forehead. Dean continued to work. Cutting fresh flesh on his arms, cutting into muscle over ribs. At one point he pulled a few fingernails off Alastair’s fingers and used them to inflict more pain on the man’s exposed back. Sam stayed behind or next to him at all times, never taking his hands off. He was always caressing Dean somewhere, feeling the older man’s muscles move under his clothes as he worked. Straight faced and serious until he felt Sam shudder behind him. “Just thinking about those hands on me later.” Dean turned to him and grabbed his chin with a bloodied hand, pulling him down into a heated kiss. “Finish with him so you can start in on me.” Dean released Sam’s chin and walked back to the table with all the tools on it. He grabbed the demon killing knife and walked back to Alastair, never taking his eyes off Sam.

“Later, douchebag,” He said raising the blade.

Alastair’s weak voice crept through the room, “No, please. Just wait- AH!” As Dean brought the knife into Alastair’s back light shot out of his mouth and eye sockets. Then the corpse collapsed on the metal table, lifeless and deflated. Dean dropped the knife and brushed his hands together. “Let’s get outta here, Sammy. I’ve got plans for you.” Sam smirked and followed Dean out. His harold was standing outside the door.

“Get someone to clean that up, would you?” he threw back over his shoulder walking next to Dean down the hall. They made it to Sam’s room as quickly as acting like nothing was going on would allow. As soon as the door was closed Sam was pinned against it, a tongue shoved into his mouth. He kissed back feverently before pulling away and taking a few breaths. Dean kissed along his jaw and down the column of his neck as his fingers worked the buttons on Sam’s shirt.

“I want to show you something,” Sam said after catching his breath. He moved away from the door so Dean could shimmy the shirt off his shoulders and toss it away. Sam yelped as Dean’s teeth closed over a nipple.

“Yeah? What’s that?” the Captain asked and then flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard little nub. Sam moaned and gripped at Dean’s hair.

“Through the door next to my bed.” Dean stopped his assault on Sam’s chest long enough to glance over his shoulder to the door on the other side of the room, then turned back to Sam. He held up a finger to point at him.

“Stay.” Then he turned and walked across the room, unbuttoning his shirt. He got the last one just as he arrived at the door. He placed his hand on the knob and turned to look at Sam, then pushed the door open. A low whistle escaped between his lips and he slowly turned back to Sam, rubbing his chin. “What the fuck is this shit, Sammy?” The Boy King swallowed thickly, suddenly worried he’d made a mistake.

”Uh, just some stuff of mine. I thought you’d like it, but you don’t have to. We don’t have to use it.” Dean nodded and tugged his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it on Sam’s bed. Then he held up a hand and crooked a finger.

“Boy King, come.” Sam took in a deep breath and stepped toward Dean. The Captain shook his head. “Crawl.” The King hit his knees and leaned forward, crawling to the other man while maintaining eye contact. Dean bit his bottom lip and palmed the front of his pants watching Sam crawl to him. He shoved the door all the way open and nodded for Sam to go in. He crawled just inside the door and sat back on his heels, placing his hands on his thighs. Dean followed him into the dungeon and closed the door.

The room was the same size as the bedroom next door. In the middle of the room was a sunken bed filled with pillows and soft throw blankets. Around the room, in almost every corner, was all types of equipment. The first corner to the left of the door had a sex swing hanging from the ceiling, the second had a bondage horse, the third a St. Andrew's Cross, and the fourth held another wet bar.

Against the wall across from the door there was a china cabinet with cupboards on the bottom. He could see an array of plugs, vibrators, whips and gags through the windows on the cabinet and assumed there were similar things in the cupboards. He dragged another hand down his face and looked down at his King. The look in Sam’s eyes nearly crushing him. He had seen the fear when Sam thought he’d reacted poorly to the room. He looked hopeful now. “What’s your favorite piece?” he asked stepping in front of Sam. The King looked around shyly then back up to Dean.

“The Horse.” Dean hummed approvingly down in his throat. He circled Sam, placing a hand on his shoulder, then he kneeled behind him and kissed the back of his neck.

“This room is amazing, Sammy,” he said against his skin. He watched as goosebumps rose in a wave down Sam’s back and he smirked. “We’re going to use the horse tonight.” Sam shuddered and rolled his shoulders. “Stay.” Dean said rising and walking around the sunken bed to the china cabinet. He opened the cupboards at the bottom and selected a pair of thick red fur lined leather cuffs that had a strip of leather connecting them. He left the cupboard doors open and sauntered back to Sam. “Forehead on the floor, hands behind your back.” Sam obediently leaned forward in a bow and placed his hands behind him. He felt the soft fur as Dean first secured one wrist, then the other.

Dean returned to the cabinet and fished out ankle cuffs and a spider gag. “I’m having mixed feelings about gagging you. This would allow me to still fuck your face. But I do love hearing you talk while I’m torturing you. Let’s toss it aside for a little and see how everything else goes.” He pulled Sam by his elbow to stand and lead him to the corner with the horse. He maneuvered Sam onto his back and secured his hands above his head to a hook at the top of the bench. He pulled him down so his arms were straight and his ass hung off the bench slightly.

Sam's breath picked up when Dean went to his knees between his legs. He felt more soft fur as the ankle cuffs were attached. Each leg was bent back and fastened to the bottom where the horse connected to the floor. Having both his ankles chained to the outside of the bench under his butt made it impossible to closes his knees. Dean stood back and admired his handiwork. He reached down and ran a hand over the quivering muscles in Sam's stomach.

“You are so beautiful like this, Sam. I could keep you naked and bound for days,” Dean said, still stroking the taut skin. He caressed lower, skipping Sam's hard cock and moving down his thigh. Sam groaned and tried to buck his hips but his position made any movement nearly impossible. Dean's face broke out in a giant smile. “Oh, yeah. This is fucking perfect. I am gonna wreck you.” Sam licked his lips and kept his eyes on Dean.

The Captain turned back toward the cabinet and opened the cupboard on the bottom, furthest to the right. On the door hung various whips. Dean chuckled, running his fingers over a thin one. He pulled it down and stood, turning to show it to Sam. The King's eyes fluttered closed, “Fuck.” The word was a whisper, barely audible. But Dean heard it, then made his way to Sam. He ran the tip of the thin whip over the sensitive skin on Sam's upper thigh. The King trembled with anticipation. Dean continued the soft assault until the boy opened this eyes.

Then the whip rose and fell over the sensitive skin. Sam threw his head back and yelled Dean's name. The Captain watched him strain against his bindings and his mouth watered. Sam's muscles bunched and rolled under his tanned skin. Dean just wanted to lick him everywhere. A few more well placed smacks had Sam's thighs littered with long red welts. Every now and then Dean would run a finger over one. Sam was a writhing moaning mess.

The Captain tossed the whip aside and leaned down to lick the length of one welt, his stubble scratching behind the soft of his tongue. “Shit, Dean!” He ground out trying to lift his head. Dean licked another, Sam hissed.

“Yes, Boy King?” The torturer had skillfully doled out his attentions being very careful not to touch Sam's straining cock. He sounded raspy from the harsh breathing.

“Touch me, please. I need it,” Sam all but whimpered tugging again on his hands. Dean chuckled and moved to stand between Sam's knees, then kneeled. Sam's dick was resting on his stomach, his balls hung heavy between his thighs, just over his winking hole. Dean reached up and grabbed his cheeks, massaging and pulling them apart.

“But, Sam, you look good enough to eat.” He leaned in and ran the flat of his tongue over Sam's hole, he could feel it clench under his tongue as Sam screamed.

“Eat a dick!” He yelled jerking on his ankle bindings. He heard Dean mutter something about bossy bottoms and spider gags. Then there was pressure on his hole as Dean worked a thumb in with his spit. Sam's mouth opened in a soundless scream as his entire cock was engulfed in wet heat. His body went rigid with the sudden sensation and he was frozen in place. The feeling of Dean humming with his cock in the back of his throaty must have shaken him up.

“Fuck, yes! Oh, shit. Thank Chuck,” Sam panted out, wanting so badly to thrust up into Dean's hot mouth but knowing any attempt would be futile. He just had to lay and take it, take what his Captain would give. Dean began bobbing on Sam's cock as he massaged the underside with his tongue. He was fucking the King’s ass with his thumb and was about to add the other. Sam whined when he pulled his mouth away to spit on his quivering hole, then gasped when Dean dove back on while working his thumbs. He gently pulled Sam's hole open, stretching it for his own hard cock. He hadn't touched himself more than palming through his pants and wasn't sure how much longer he could wait to fuck this kid’s ass.

“Wanna fuck you good, Boy King. You'll be walking funny tomorrow.” It wasn't just a promise it was a goal. Finally he pulled off Sam's dick with an obscene squish and stood to line up his head with Sam's under stretched hole. “Relax, baby. This is going to hurt. Don't forget to breath.” Short thrusts had his head pressing its way in slowly. Sam hissed and arched his back when the tip popped in. “Shh, doin so good, Sammy. Relax, it'll get better.” Sam nodded and looked into Dean's eyes.

“More,” the King whispered. Dean smiled proudly and started pushing in again. His eyes fluttered shut on a moan as he slid into the tight heat of Sam's ass. He could fucking live here.

“Fuck, baby. You are so fucking tight. You like stretching out on my dick? Feeling that slow burn?”

“Fuck, yes! Please!” Sam's legs were trembling with the need to move. He wanted to fuck down on Dean's cock so badly.

“Fuck, yes.” Dean bottomed out and ground his hips a few times. Then he pulled out so just the tip was in and pushed all the way back in. Sam screamed at the pain pleasure of it, egging Dean on. He started thrusting in and out faster, building on a rhythm and looking for that perfect angle. He'd found it the night before with the vibrator but this was his first time with his cock. Then he felt Sam jerk as he let out a loud curse.

“Yahtzee,” he said moving his hips slightly and pushing against it again and again. Sam moaned under him, thrashing his head back and forth.

“Shit, Dean. Not gonna last.”

“You come when you're ready, come on my cock, Sammy.” He watched Sam's stomach muscles pull and contract in an attempt to buck against Dean's hips. Then he came shouting Dean's name. Splatters of white all the way up to his chin. Dean felt Sam's ass tighten around his cock and threw his head back as he pounded into his King. He finally felt his balls tighten and he never stopped thrusting until his own orgasm ebbed. He stood between Sam's legs panting. Then leaned down and licked a strip of come off Sam's chest, he shoved his tongue in Sam's mouth. They both moaned at the kiss, the taste.

The pair made their way back into Sam’s room, naked, and over to the bar. Dean poured them each a drink and they lounged back in the chairs behind the coffee table. Dean’s feet were propped up on the table and Sam’s were over his thighs. They chatted a bit, mostly sat in silence, sipping their whiskey. After they finished the night cap they fell into a heap on the bed, kissing and caressing. Neither man noticed the pair of eyes watching from the balcony. Neither cared that they might be drawing attention to themselves.

~*~

“They what!?” Meg arched her brow and pursed her lips slightly.

“Did I stutter, old man? They seem to be having sex. By the looks of them when they came out of the Boy King’s playroom pretty awesome sex.”

“This… This isn’t going to get in the way, is it?” His tone faltered and he sounded more defeated than angry.

“No. It might make it better,” Meg said, her voice dripping with her trademark seduction. There was a grunt on the other end. Meg just grinned. “You know, they are quite beautiful together.”

“Shut up, bitch. Did you get the codeword?”

“Yes, they seem to be sharing a bed tonight. I’ll go in after they fall asleep.” Another disapproving grunt had Meg’s grin widened. How she loved to torture.

“You just do whatever you have to do to stick to the plan. It’s almost time. Anything happens to jeopardize them boys and it’ll be on your head.”

“Don’t worry about me, old man. You just make sure your part is ready. I’m really sticking my neck out here. It was pure luck I got to the Boy King before Alastair. It could have been me Captain Winchester filleted on that table.”

“Be more careful.”

“Thanks for the concern.” With that she hung up and watched the men fall asleep by candlelight in the King’s bed. How ironic, that after a hundred years in hell they would finally meet. And fall in love. Nothing was ever easy with these two. Meg waited another hour after the Winchester’s were sleeping to slip into the room and up to Sam. She leaned down to his ear and whispered something. Then sauntered around the bed to Dean, saying the same. She stood and backed out of the room, enjoying the view of hard, bare chests of taut skin. They really were a beautiful pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to help me out with a project? Looking for people who are decent in graphic design.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, makes my day. Thanks to everyone who left kudos or bookmarked the story, I'm so glad you like it!
> 
> UPDATED 01/19/2017
> 
> Hmmm, I updated all three chapters in one day. I wonder if I'm up to something... ;)

Sam woke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed. His breathing was ragged and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Suddenly Dean sat up just as fast right next to him, causing Sam to jump slightly. Dean looked like Sam felt. Eyes wide, surveying the room quickly. Their eyes finally met and they both narrowed them slightly, looking warily at each other.

“What the fuck happened, dude?” Sam tilted his head at the new term of endearment, but it sounded like something he’d been hearing his whole life.

“I don’t know. I had a dream, a weird one. But I can’t recall any of it.” Dean nodded back and ran a hand through his hair. They sat in the bed, trying to gather their thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

“Sire?” came a muffled voice, “Boy King, we have a problem, I need council immediately.” The harold knocked again.

“Yes, fine. Come in.” Sam rose, naked, as the harold hastily entered and stood by the door, his eyes on the floor. The Boy King went to his closet to dress as the harold waited impatiently. “You may speak, harold,” Sam called from the closet door.

“Yes, Sir. We have a problem. There is activity above. We fear something is happening. We need instruction. The council is gathering and we need to brief and plan.” The harold was visibly trembling, his body giving away more than his words. Sam emerged dressed in a pair of jeans and a button down black and white plaid shirt. The harold looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

“Above? Earth or heaven?” Dean was now roaming the room to find his clothing. He didn’t look at either of the other men, but he was listening intently. The harold hesitated.

“Both, Sire.” Sam and Dean shared a look of curiosity. Suddenly Sam let out a pained howl and sank to his knees on the carpet, grasping his head in his hands.

“Sam!” Dean called diving to his side on the floor. It was the last thing he heard before bright white flashed before his eyes. Dean lay on the floor holding his King for fifteen long minutes before Sam sat up, much like he’d woken that morning, and gasped in deep breaths of air. He scanned the room, his eyes wide. They fell on Dean, again, and he saw something click in the Captain’s gaze.

“Uh, harold! Um… Go and gather the council. Post haste.” The harold looked from one man to the other, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Sure, Sire. I’ll summon you when they are assembled?”

“No!” Both Dean and the harold jumped. “No, not necessary. I will make my presence when I’m ready.” The harold again looked at his King skeptically. Dean glared.

“You heard him! Go! I will escort the Boy King momentarily.” The harold nodded, then, and fell back into his role, rushing out the door and closing it behind him.

“Sam? What happened?”

“I had a vision.”

“Oh, shit. You get visions.” It was a statement more than a question. Something of realization that chipped away at the wall in his mind. A wall he hadn’t even noticed before.

“Dean,” Sam breathed out, sitting up on his own and looked into the Captain’s eyes. Dean’s eyebrows went up to get him to continue speaking. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, he needed Sam to say more. Keep hacking at the wall. “We’re a Goddamned sleeper cell.” Dean’s jaw dropped and the wall exploded.

~*~18 months earlier~*~

“This doesn’t seem a little crazy to you?” Bobby asked looking across the table.

“Everything is crazy right now. We’ve exhausted our options. We have to try something new, something they won't see coming,” Sam said leaning his elbows on the table. Dean stood quietly leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. “Dean?”

“I don’t know, Sam. We’re giving them what they want.”

“That’s why they won’t see it coming. We fight, just enough to make them think they’ve beat us, that we aren’t just giving up. When we’re deep enough, we fight again. But from the inside.” Sam looked around at the solemn faces.

“I believe Sam is correct. We have exhausted all other options. We have no choice but to be drastic,” Castiel spoke up from his position leaning back against the counter next to the fridge.

“I don’t like it-”

“You’ll be with me, right? We’ll do this together.” Sam interrupted his brother as he stood from the table. Dean held up a hand, effectively stopping his advance and his words.

“I don’t like it,” he repeated, “but at this point I don’t know what else to do.”

~*~Present~*~

“What the fuck do we do now, Dean?” Sam’s eyes were wide as he scanned the room. Dean reached out and grabbed his chin, pulling his gaze to his own. His eyes were different, darker, harder. Which seemed strange to Sam. Why would Dean, his brother, look more dangerous than Dean, master carver?

“We do what we came for. Go change into your suit. We have a meeting to attend to.”

~*~

It took a second for Dean to get Sam to focus. They had been asleep a long time and the personalities they developed were just beneath the surface, trying to push through. The Boy King strode down the hall in his white suit, Captain Winchester a step behind and slightly to his right in the rumpled black suit from the night before. Both looked deadly. Which matched the situation in hell perfectly.

Everyone in the room leapt from their chairs when the double doors burst open. The Boy King strode in and rounded the council to stand at the head of the table. Dean didn’t hesitate to setting on his right in the chair General Alastair wouldn’t be filling.

“Ladies and gentlemen. What the hell is going on?”

The Boy King took his seat and was informed of the movement the hunters above were doing or rather lack thereof. It seemed that sometime during the night they had all disappeared. It was first noticed when every single hunter on their watch list vanished. While trying to clear up the confusion it was quickly discovered all of the hunters had vanished. There wasn’t a demon topside that could locate a single one.

Sam’s face broke into an evil smirk, one that seemed to convey a dangerous calmness to his council. The hunters were doing their part.

Another member rose to give their account of the angels. There seemed to be more of them on earth than had been in years, decades. They were arriving at alarming numbers. A few members expressed their assumptions that maybe the angels were taking out the hunters, and they should let it play out. One problem taking care of another. Dean and Sam made sure to never make eye contact during the meeting.

“How long?”

“Sir?”

“How long do we just stand here and wait before we raise our own army?” Sam asked, slight irritation in his voice. The council members looked at one another, not quite sure what to do. They had never been in such a situation where they would feel the need to interfere. They wanted the hunters out of the way, and to let the angels do it would be preferable.

“I suggest 24 hours. We see where we are after that. Maybe the angels will simply return to heaven and stop there.”

“And if they don’t?” Sam asked cocking an eyebrow. The council member sunk lower in his chair, not having a retort. “Think it over. We need more information. Send out the scouts.” Sam rose from his chair, Dean not far behind.

“Sir? We have demons topside reporting in. Do we need more scouts?” It was the same stupid council member who had no better ideas than to wait. Sam was glad he was there.

“Do we? What do we know?” Everyone ducked their heads in lieu of answering. They had nothing, and they weren’t used to it. Demon’s didn’t like being out of the loop. Sam nodded at them all and stormed out. He grinned at the commotion of movement and orders as soon as he and Dean were clear of the doors.

~*~

“Holy shit, Sam! That was amazing! You do that pretty well, especially for just being cued.” Sam and Dean burst through the Boy King’s chamber doors much like they did into the conference room. Sam closed and locked it behind him, then leaned forward pressing his forehead to the cool wood. “Sam?”

“What. The. Fuck.” Dean knew exactly what his brother was referring to. He just needed to gauge Sam’s frame of mind a little more.

“You okay, man?” That did it. Sam reeled on his brother, spinning and advancing quickly. He shoved Dean’s shoulders, hard.

“Okay!? Who’s genius idea was this? What the fuck are we doing here? We’re going to get ourselves killed. And… This,” he said gesturing between himself and his brother. They were both breathing hard by now. Dean’s face was blank, calm; letting Sam vent. Sam ran a hand down his face, but made no further move to yell or shove the other man.

“You good, dude? My turn?” Dean kept his voice like his face, calm. Sam took in another deep breath. He bent over and braced his hands on his knees, few more breaths. Then rose to his full height and nodded his head. “Alright, good. This,” Dean said waving his arms around, “was your idea. We are going to follow our plan and tear hell apart from the inside out.” Sam nodded.

“Trojan Horse.” Dean grinned taking a step toward him.

“Mother fucking Trojan Horse.” Sam nodded, his breathing started to level out, but never fully calmed. He could feel Dean’s body heat they were standing so close. He looked away just as Dean caught a flash of something in his eye. “And this,” the older Winchester said gesturing between them with a flick of his finger, “I don’t know about you, Sammy, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here. This felt pretty damn good.”

He watched as Sam’s shoulders slumped slightly, visibly relaxing. The Boy King looked back at the Captain and sighed lightly, then huffed a laugh. “Thank fucking Chuck.” He stepped into Dean’s space and crushed their lips together, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist as he pulled him tighter by the small of his back. Dean reached up a hand to tangle in Sam’s hair, the other resting on the back of his neck. After letting Sam assault him for a few seconds he tightened his grip and dragged Sam’s head back, exposing his neck.

“But you’re still going to be my bitch.” He licked from Sam’s collarbone up to his jaw and nibbled along his chin. His cock filling at the shudder he felt go through his brother. Sam took a few shaky breaths and squeezed his eyes closed. It was only a little more difficult now than last night.

“Please.”

Dean bit Sam’s neck and growled into his skin. His blood ran straight to his cock at the groan that vibrated up Sam’s throat and out his mouth. Dean licked over the indentations his teeth made and pulled on Sam’s hair, forcing him to his knees. With his other hand Dean unfastened his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it in Sam’s face a couple times. He chuckled at his brother as Sam watched with wide eyes, licking over his lips.

“This what you want, Boy King?” Sam tipped his head back the best he could with Dean’s fingers still tangled in his hair and parted his lips in invitation. Dean groaned and painted the tip of his cock over Sam’s pink mouth. Never breaking eye contact, Sam darted his tongue out to lick into the slit. Dean sucked a breath in through his teeth and shifted his hips forward, pushing the tip between Sam’s lips. When Sam tried to take him deeper Dean held fast and twitched his hips back and forth, bobbing the head of his cock in and out of Sam’s mouth. He bit his lip at the groan of frustration the Boy King offered.

“Show me how much you love my cock.” Dean released Sam’s hair and his dick and reached up locking his fingers together on the back of his head. Sam grabbed his hips to steady them both and swallowed Dean in one swift movement. His nose buried in the Captain’s trimmed pubes and he bobbed a few times, hitting the back of his throat with the tip of Dean’s cock. Dean’s eyes slipped closed and he groaned loudly, fighting the urge to thrust into Sam’s face. He worked his way up and down, using his tongue to massage the underside. Dean jumped and snapped his eyes down to Sam at the feel of a finger working its way into his crack.

“Sam,” he said, his tone warning, as he tried to back away. Sam held fast and moved off his dick as he shoved his pants down to his knees.

“Dean, trust me?” Dean hesitated, but nodded and relaxed. The smile Sam gave him pulled at his heart as Sam slid his tongue up the length of Dean’s cock and slipped it back down his throat. His slick finger started moving again, prodding at Dean’s asshole, applying gentle pressure, and finally slipping the tip in. Dean jerked again, but didn’t pull away. Sam worked his throat muscles over the head of Dean’s cock as he slowly pushed his finger in and out, going a little deeper each time. The weird pressure gave way to building pleasure as Sam prodded around, searching. Then Dean thrust into Sam’s mouth, nearly making him gag, with a yelp. Sam grinned around his cock, deep throated him, then hummed.

“Oh, shit, Sammy. What the hell was that?” Sam hummed again, and prodded his finger back against Dean’s prostate, making his knees buckle. “Fuck,” Dean mumbled as he shuffled his hips a bit, losing his pants down his legs. They pooled at his feet and were quickly kicked away. Sam moaned on his cock again, using just the one finger to tease his brother as he moved to spread his legs a little more. He shifted his hips back and forth gently, moving into Sam’s mouth, then back onto his finger. He inhaled with a hiss as Sam hit his spot again, then he reached down and grabbed a handful of hair pulling Sam off him.

“Bed. Flat on your stomach.” Sam flicked his tongue out one more time to caress the tip of Dean’s dick before standing and shedding his clothes. He laid on his stomach in the middle of the bed with his arms folded under his head. Dean watched for a moment then shucked the rest of his clothing and crawled onto the bed between Sam’s feet. He laid gentle kisses across his brother’s ankle, and moved up the back of his calf. His hand caressed the other leg as he moved up, leaving little love bites to bloom over Sam’s skin. By the time he reached the fold of Sam’s ass cheek he was a whimpering mess.

“Dean, please.” Dean smiled against his skin and bit into one cheek while smacking the other. Sam only moaned as he shifted his hips to offer everything he had. Dean hummed with approval and grabbed a plump cheek in each hand pulling them apart to get a look at his prize. He blew a cool breath over Sam’s entrance and watched it flutter under the attention. Sam moaned impatiently and tried to shift his hips again, pushing his ass toward Dean’s face. The Captain just chuckled and leaned forward to wipe the flat of his tongue over the pink hole. Sam didn’t move, but let out the most delicious sounding groan he’d ever heard.

“Hmmm, I love the sounds you make for me, Boy King. I’ll wring every last one out of you.” He licked a broad strip again, but this time didn’t stop, applying a little more pressure with each pass. Sam moved his knees out and arched his back as he clutched at the sheets on the bed, trying to hold as still as possible under his brother’s skilled tongue. Dean grinned as he continued lapping at Sam, he could feel his little brother trying to push back against his face, always the impatient one. Without warning Dean shoved his tongue in Sam’s hole as far as it would go and wiggled up and down. Sam lurched forward on the bed but since Dean had been expecting it to surprise him he simply followed, reaching up to hold Sam to the bed by his thighs.

“Oh, fuck me! Dean!”

“I plan to, baby.” Dean chuckled. He then continued to lick his brother open, adding a finger when the muscles relaxed to his tongue. The Captain moved slowly and deliberately. Only allowing Sam minimal room to move. He could hear the scrape of Sam’s nails on the sheets as he gripped and pulled. Once he had 3 fingers with his tongue working inside he decided Sam would be fine. “You ready for my cock, Boy King? Gonna take it nice and hard?” Sam only moaned arching again and offering his ass. Dean grinned and smacked down on the same cheek as before as he climbed to his knees.

He settled himself between Sam’s thighs, reaching down to run a thumb over the swollen, slick hole. Dean gripped Sam’s hips and aimed his own so the blunt tip of his dick rubbed against the pucker. Sam whined again and tried to shift back to impale himself, but Dean moved and held his hips tight. “Patience, Boy King. You’ll take what I give you.” Dean licked his lips as he watched the head of his cock disappear into his brother’s ass, seeing the stretch made his mouth water.

He watched Sam’s ribs expand and contract with his breathing and effort to hold still through the excruciatingly slow penetration. Dean let out a deep breath as he bottomed out, grinding his hips against Sam’s. He started up a quick pace, pulling out about an inch, then snapping back in. He pistoned his hips quickly, giving Sam the speed he craved but denying him the pull. Gradually he increased the depth, maintaining speed. He loved watching Sam’s face as he fucked him. But he really loved watching the muscles in his brother’s back and arms twitch and shudder with an effort to hold still for Dean. To be a good boy.

Dean couldn’t fight the urge to run a hand up Sam’s spine, still holding his hip firm in the other. He was nearly pulling out all the way now, keeping only the head of his cock in before slamming back into Sam. And Sam met his every thrust. He felt his brothers muscles tighten and roll every time he pushed back to meet Dean. His skin damp and warm with sweat.

“Fuck, Sammy. So fucking hot like this. I love the way you tremble.” Sam did it again, unintentionally, just hearing the deep sexed out voice of his big brother. The praise enough to make his own cock leak. He sucked in a breath and shuddered it out feeling a tensing in his gut.

“Dean, ‘m close, please,” Sam knew Dean liked to hear him beg, and he didn’t want to just come on his brother’s cock.

“What’d you want, baby? Mine or yours?”

“Yours, please!” Dean didn’t hesitate to reach the hand from Sam’s back around to grasp his dick, squeezing lightly and stroking up and down spreading precome for lube. Sam burying his face in the bed only muffled a moan as his thighs shifted apart more and he arched his back, putting all his weight on his knees and chest.

“That’s it, Sammy. So hot when you’re all desperate for me. I’m gonna fill you with my seed, Boy King.” Sam groaned again and squeezed the muscles in his ass, grinning at the grunt Dean let out. “Come for me, baby.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah!” Sam humped forward into Dean’s hand and back onto his cock as he felt his balls tighten and the flutter in his gut was nearly unbearable. He came with a shout of Dean’s name, his ass getting unbelievably tight.

“Shit, Sammy!” Dean was right behind him, their orgasms mixing together. Dean angled his hips to hit Sam’s prostate as each thrust got slower. Sam showed his appreciation by keeping his muscles clenched around his brothers cock. They each prolonged each other’s release as much as they could, slowing their movements and slumping down into a heap. Dean lying half across Sam’s back, Sam sprawled on the bed, breathing heavily. It was a while before anyone moved or spoke.

Dean was completely soft by the time he rolled off Sam, pulling out of his ass with a wet sound. Sam threw his arm over his brother’s chest and pulled him closer.

“Fuckin’ A, dude. I may let you do that to me sometime. That finger trick was pretty nice.” Sam smiled lazily at him.

“Cocks feel way better.” Dean chuckled at his slight slur.

“Get some sleep, Boy King. We’re going to be pretty busy in a few hours. Let’s hope everyone else remembers what they’re supposed to do.”

~*~

Dean woke with a warm, wet hardon. Only half awake he arched his back and moaned Sam’s name, earning himself vibrating sensations over the head of his cock as his brother moaned in response. Well then, if Sammy wanted to give him morning head who was he to say no.

So here was the Boy King, kneeling on the floor naked. His wrists were secured at the small of his back. Dean stood in front of him, also naked. The fingers of his left hand fisted at the back of Sam’s head as he fucked his face. Sam was pretty good at relaxing his throat and maintaining control of his gag reflex. Dean offered even, deep thrusts of his hips. Holding his cock head at the back of Sam’s throat until his face turned red and his eyes got wet. He pulled back far enough to let Sam take a couple ragged breaths then he was back to thrusting. At one point he even raised his right arm as if riding a bull at a rodeo. A knock at the door had him growling low in his throat. He pulled Sam’s face off his dick and Sam took a couple deep breaths.

“Who is it?” Dean shoved his mouth back down as soon as the words were out of it. Thrusting in and out shallowly.

“Sire, we have updates we think you need to be briefed on,” the harold said through the door. Then they heard the jingle of the handle, but it was still locked. “We feel it’s imperative we deal with the new developments as soon as possible.” Dean once again pulled Sam’s head back, this time enough to give his stomach muscles a rest from holding him up.

“Very well. The Captain will escort me momentarily.” His voice was ragged, and his breathing uneven. He was sure the harold suspected something, but he had faith in the little guy that he wouldn’t reveal any suspicions to anyone.

“Yes, sir. I will have everyone assembled at once.” With that the harold was gone. Dean looked down at his King. Lips red and swollen, eyes drowning, his cheeks were flushed.

“Look’s like we’re out of time, Boy King.” Sam whimpered and flicked out his tongue, searching for Dean’s cock. The older brother smirked and rubbed Sam’s cheek with his right hand. “Good boy.” He shoved Sam’s face back down on his cock and skull fucked him in earnest. He saw Sam pulling at his wrist restraints, watched the wetness in his eyes roll down his cheeks, felt his own balls tighten up.

“That’s it, Sammy. Such a good cock slut. Fuck, Sam!” Dean felt it in his gut when he came hard down Sam’s throat. As soon as he was finished he pulled Sam off his cock again and shoved him onto his back on the carpet. Before the Boy King could even register what was happening his own dick was engulfed in his brother’s hot mouth. Dean sucked expertly at Sam’s reddened cock, making him come rather quickly.

“Shit, shit, Dean!” The sound of his brother so fucked out and hoars made him groan, which pushed Sam over that edge. He threw his legs open and shifted his hips as he blew his load into Dean’s mouth. They both lay panting for a few moments before Dean reached up and smacked the inside of Sam’s thigh. The younger Winchester jerked and huffed a laugh.

“We need to get dressed. Phase two.” Sam only nodded and rolled to his stomach to allow Dean to uncuff him.

~*~

They should have met the council ten minutes ago but they paused in dressing to make out and fondle each other a bit. It was kinda hard to focus when Sam was stark naked, tanned and toned and smelling like Dean and sex. They strode down the hall, completely in their element. Sam burst through the doors in the same way as before, it seemed to be his favored entrance. Everyone stood. Sam didn’t bother making eye contact until he was standing behind his chair. And when he finally did his brows were drawn down and his mouth in a tight line. He looked pissed. Dean tried to mimic his brother’s stance, but a little softer. The Boy King needed to be the most intimidating person in the room.

“We agreed to meet in 24 hours. It’s been 18. There had better be good news coming for calling the meeting early.” Sam sat as he spoke, the room followed. The council members were fidgety, no one wanted to begin. Sam raised his eyebrows impatiently and scanned the room, but no one would look at him. Finally he slammed his fists on the table causing everyone to jump, and a man stood to give a report.

“Sire, we have lost contact with our comrades topside.” The man started down at his papers on the table, pretending to read. Sam scoffed and was genuinely disgusted by his cowardice.

“What do you mean ‘lost contact’?” His voice was even, but held a tone that made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand on end. Sam was so fucking hot like this. Cold and collected, dangerous and calculating. And he was going to bend him over later and show him who was fucking boss.

“They are all missing, Sir. The scouts we sent out haven’t been able to locate anyone to check in with. Few returned home to deliver the news. Most have also vanished.” Finally tentative eyes raised to appraise their king. Sam sat forward and braced his elbows on the table pressing his palms together and his lips against his thumbs.

“What the fuck is going on here? I have never in my life dealt with such incompetence. Everyone out. Find me Meg.” No one moved, eyes shifted around to gaze at each other wondering silently what was going on. Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get the fuck out!” He exploded to his feet flinging his chair behind him and causing the room to erupt into motion. The conference room cleared and the Boy King and Captain were left alone.

“Damn, Sammy. So hot like this,” Dean said leaning back in his chair and cupping the semi in his black slacks. Sam huffed a laugh and moved to right his chair.

“We don’t have time, focus, Dean. This is almost over.” Sam slumped back into his chair and placed his forehead on the cool table. They waited for a moment in silence before the door opened and closed quickly. Sam looked up to see Meg standing with a hip cocked out and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Took you long enough.”

~*~12 Months Ago~*~

“Alright, one last time.” Dean huffed and let his forehead fall to the kitchen table a little harder than necessary. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s drama. “This isn’t just life or death for us, Dean. If we screw this up we are handing them the future they are fighting for on a silver platter.” Dean groaned as he sat up.

“I understand, Sam. But going over the whole plan one more time seems a little redundant to me.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “What? I read.”

“I just don’t think it’ll hurt. We have to leave in a couple hours.”

“Sam’s right. We should spend as much time discussing it as possible. I will be leaving as soon as you to rally my brothers and sisters. We’ll need all the time you can give us to prepare for the assault.” Sam nodded at Castiel. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Fine. While we’re playing Smith and Goldblum to blow up the mothership what are we going to be hoping the other side accomplishes so we don’t get found out and killed?” Sam rolled his eyes this time.”

“We will clear the surface. Quickly, quietly, efficiently. Our part will be fairly easy when I get my brothers and sisters to rally together. We just have to make sure you’re ready.”

~*~Present~*~

“Are we ready?” Dean rose from his chair, staring at Meg. The demon crooked one eyebrow at him and huffed a sigh.

“My part is done. Seems the angels are keeping their part. The spell is keeping all the hunters hidden. Our army is being assembled to go to the surface. They’ll all leave through the gate. Right into the ambush.” Sam nodded.

“And the ones that try and retreat?”

“They’ll run right back to me. And my army.” Meg’s smile was wicked. “And then Hell will be purged. Of course, there will probably be stragglers that we’ll have to dig out over the next few months, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Very well. Where do we stand?”

~*~

The Boy King strode down the hall toward the catacombs of Hell. The maze of hallways that held the gates of Hell. Dean flanked to his right, Meg to his left. They were on their way to meet the army that was going to rise to meet the angels.

They made it to an open chamber right before the catacombs where hundreds of demon’s were waiting. Many of them high ranking officials and carvers. Most were lower levels. All were followers of their Boy King, but loyal to Lucifer.

“Soldiers!” Sam shouted over the din of conversation. Everyone stopped to listen to their leader. “We are under attack! Our own brothers and sisters went topside to gather information, nothing more, and are gone. We have no idea what the angels are planning, but they must be stopped. You must stop them.” A cheer went up. Many demon’s throwing fists in the air. “Rush the gates! Take your revenge!” The cheer was deafening as the crowd turned to race through the tunnels. Sam, Dean and Meg shared looks as they followed the last of the ranks.

The tomb in the cemetery burst open as a flood of dark souls came rushing out.Some knew exactly where they were going, in search of missing friends. For most the plan was to wreak havoc, any way possible. The crowd dispersed in all directions, but stopped just before the cemetery walls.

“What the fuck?” the first demon murmured. He put his hands up and pressed against the invisible barrier, turning to his friends. Sam followed the last of the group out the gate and smirked. Then slammed the gates of Hell closed, cutting off any retreat. It wasn’t long before the three heard the screams of hundreds of their best soldiers. And even the press of the concrete and the door together couldn’t stop all of the bright white-blue light from seeping in around the edges.

“That went a lot better than expected,” Sam said turning to lead the others back to Hell.

“That was the easy part, sugar. The angels just wiped out every demon on earth, literally. But they can’t come down here. We have to take care of the rest.” Meg pulled her demon knife from the back of her jeans and followed the boys back up.

“How are we supposed to know who’s loyal to Sam and who gets ganked?”

“You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” They emerged from the catacombs into chaos. Meg had given the instruction to her second in command that as soon as she and the Winchesters went to open the gate they were to attack from the inside. The fighting was everywhere. Meg jumped right into the fray; cutting, stabbing, slicing. She moved and flowed through the crowd with ease. The brother’s shared uneasy looks. Then Dean shrugged.

“Fuck it.” He grabbed his own knife from the small of his back and started stabbing demons. He really didn’t care if he was killing soldiers on his own side. The plan was simple. Wipe out Hell. Just like there were asshat angels, there were decent demons. And they would be granted amnesty for helping to get rid of the ‘bad guys’.

Meg had managed to find and assemble the demons who didn’t really care too much for destroying everything. There was a surprising number of them. Most of the demons left in hell were on their side. Almost all of the evil spawn of Lucifer had been topside when the angels burned them out of their vessels.

Sam surveyed the battle, finding his brother and then Meg. The fight was dying down. They had actually done it. There was going to be a period of time when they would have to chase down anyone who escaped. This was a take no prisoners battle. The angels would help sniff them out of hiding, and then mosey on back to heaven. The spell over the hunters would be lifted and everyone would stay in their respective realities. They had actually done it. Sam and Dean tamed Hell.

~*~

Sam shoved the heavy door open and squinted at the bright light of morning sun. Dean followed him out onto the grass, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. As far as they could see there were bodies strewn all over the grass. Some laid up over tombstones. About 20 yards away, under a giant oak, stood Bobby and Castiel. Bobby leaned a shoulder against the rough bark with his arms crossed over his chest, a big grin on his face. Castiel stood with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, his face was stoic, but there was a gleam in his eye.

The boys embraced their friends, pats on the back and congratulations. Meg hung back with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, chin held high.

“So, someone’s gonna take care of this right? Cause I don’t wanna.” Dean motioned around him to all the corpses the demon army left behind. Castiel sighed and shook his head in amusement.

“Yes, Dean. They will be dealt with.”

 

“What are you boys gonna do now?” Bobby asked leaning back against the tree. Meg cocked an eyebrow at the question.

“I don’t really know,” Sam admitted toeing the dirt with a boot. Meg took a few steps forward.

“You are still the Boy King. You still have loyalists.” Everyone looked to Sam. He huffed a nervous laugh and licked his bottom lip.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Pie. We need pie. You know, to mull it over.” Sam grinned a bit and glanced at each member of their group from under his hair, finally landing on Dean. He took a deep breath and made the three steps toward his brother. He couldn’t hesitate, he knew if he did he’d stop. He pulled Dean in with an arm around his waist and the other on the back of his neck and kissed him. The older Winchester was a bit taken off guard and froze as Sam’s lips moved over his. Bobby coughed uncomfortably and turned away, Castiel tilted his head to the side with his eyebrows knitted together. Dean finally kissed Sam back.

“Yes, Dean. Let’s get you pie. Then, maybe, take a look at the new Hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking for help with a rather large project. I need help with graphic design.


End file.
